


This Time, To the End

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Rewrite, Childhood Trauma, Dialogue Heavy, F/F, Family, Griffon doesn't count, Incest, Pregnancy, Regret, Retelling, Reunions, There are no men in this fic, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-13 13:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18941581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: A retelling of DMC5, in which Dante seeks her sister for the last time, V atones for her past, and Nero comes to terms with having a family.(And Vergil reunites with her other half.)[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION]





	This Time, To the End

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun talking about fem!DanVer on the Spardacest discord and ended up ideas that became this. Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing. So, see you at the top of Qliphoth tree! (lol) 
> 
> Four things to know before reading: 
>
>> 1\. The only confirmed pairing is Dante/Vergil; any other ship(s) is up to your interpretation. 
>> 
>> 2\. How the redesigns are is up to you, any look is a good look! 
>> 
>> 3\. All dialogue and timestamps in this work are lifted from the actual game. I just wrote everything in between and connected them together. (You will find that I'm no good at action scenes.)
>> 
>> 4\. No, I didn't not write in the _entire_ plot; I would've died. I tried to put in enough that it's not hard to connect, but it's best to have seen/played the entire game. It may be jumpy in some parts, but if you know what happens, you'll understand it fine. 

**May 16th—08:06 PM**

“Round two.”

The blow hurt, hurt like Hell, and Nero tries to push herself back up. She's struggling, and she hates it, hates it even more than when Dante decided to jump in the fight with the big, ugly demon. Two women—Dante’s friends—lay, knocked out, on the sidelines.

Nero had this, it was just one blow. She's been through worse, God damn it. She still has Red Queen, and her mark has never been better.

“V, get Nero out of here!” Dante shouts, her DT holding badly against the demon’s nonchalant attack. The older woman's losing, but she keeps herself up. _Not yet_. “This is a bad move!”

“I can still fight!” Nero shouts back from the ground, and she launches herself forward. V catches her easily, pulling her back just seconds from being crushed by the falling rocks.

“Nero, _go!_ You're just dead weight!”

Nero feels a cold dread washing over her as her glare smolders at the older woman. _Dead weight?_ Is she really that useless without her Devil Bringer? Does Dante really think that she can't do anything to help? That she has nothing to bring into the fight? Into the fight against a demon trying to destroy the world?

Fuck, she's fought a _god_ , what is _one_ demon? Nero has been killing them since young, since she learned to use that cursed arm of hers. She, with Credo's help and Kyrie's support, turned it into a deformity into a weapon,  _to protect_ , to shut anyone up if they think they could ever make her feel bad about being born the way she was. _Hell is other people_ , and Nero has been through that and back.

V is pulling her again, from the fight, and Nero shoves the other woman away. “Back off!” she demands, trying to get back, but more rocks fall, blocking the way of Dante and the demon.

“Come on!” V shouts, this time successful in pulling Nero back.

Nero stubbornly struggles, ignoring the sting in her eyes. “Let go!”

“We must leave here. She is far stronger than than we could've imagine.” Her demon of a bird flies over them, leaving as quickly as possible.

Again, Nero refuses, getting herself out of V's weak hold, and over the rocks that blocked her way, she says, “That bitch called me dead weight. I didn't come all this way for nothing!”

Finally, the last of the rocks fall, cutting Nero completely from Nero, and V has her pressed up against the wall, silver cane at the young devil hunter's chest with a hard look on her face. It's full of regret and begrudging acceptance, as if Nero is her last card.

“Stop hitting yourself,” the mysterious one tells her, “and think of ways to get stronger and actually help. If Dante lose . . .” She turns back to the fallen rocks, hurt crossing stitching her lips into a thin line. “You're all that can defeat Urizen,” she quietly finishes, pulling her cane back.

“Is that what you call him?” Nero asks, catching that bit

V pauses a heartbeat. “Yes, Urizen, the demon queen,” she then says. “That's the name of the demon that took your arm.”

It sounds like only half-truth, but Nero doesn't care what V has to do with that demon. _Urizen_ , the woman repeats to herself, _just you wait. I'm coming for you._

 

 

 

**April 30th—05:45 PM**

There's a stranger outside the garage door, a part way open to let the last light of day fill the room, and Nero doesn't know them, can't recognize them under the dirty cloak that hide their entire figure. It's probably a homeless person, looking for some food, and fortunately, there's always enough to spare in this house, the devil hunter making good money and Kyrie always open to others.

“What is it, you hungry? Well, you're in luck pal, 'cause food's ready and Kyrie always makes too much,” she says, looking away, because oddly enough, the stranger's presence is familiar. She can't really pin it down, but it reminds her of her annoying mentor Dante. “Hope you like loud talkers, too, 'cause we got a pair of those upstairs.”

There's no answer, only footsteps coming into the garage, and Nero looks to them, getting up on her feet. “You see something you like?” she asks, and unexpectedly, her Devil Bringer begins glow, as if in attunement with the stranger. “What the hell? You a demon?”

Nero is immediately on edge. How did a demon get so close without her noticing? She feels like a failure, unable to protect even her own home. This is an invasion, and anger flares up in her. That is until a set of familiar footsteps is heading to the garage. Nero's breath stops short, feeling like ice in her lungs.

“Nero, what's going on?” Kyrie asks, coming from down the hall, her voice carrying through the open door. “What’s goin—”

“Kyrie, get back inside, now!” Nero shouts before her girlfriend even has the chance to peek into the garage, and like a fool, she turns her back to the stranger.

“I'm taking this back,” the stranger says, her voice in gasps and ragged.

The next minute of Nero's life flashes in pain when the stranger grabs her by her Devil Bringer, throwing her away against the wall. Her vision blurs as she slowly comes to understand that the stranger now has her arm, blood spilling out where it once was. The stranger holds Nero's Devil Bringer up, and in a flash of blue, it becomes the sword that the late Agnus obsessed over.

 _Yamato_.

The stranger looks at it in relief, her moment cut short by a coughing fit filled with splatter of blood. “I'm running out of time,” she says to nobody, but Nero hears it, even as she begins to lose her consciousness.

Turning around, the cloaked stranger slashes the air with Yamato, cutting through reality in a cross, and Nero forces herself to move, crawling on the concrete floor with her last arm. There's blood in her mouth and anger in her being. She wants to kill the bitch who _invaded_ her home and had the _fucking nerve_ to take _her_ arm. She doesn't care what Yamato is, or who used to own it, but it's _hers_. Dante let her have it, and there's no way Nero would willingly ever let anyone take it.

_Over her dead body._

“Wait,” Nero demands, seething through the pain, “wait!”

But it's too late, the stranger goes through the wounds of reality without even sparing Nero a look back. That only pisses her off more, but her visions is failing worse now. She hears Kyrie and Nico seconds before she finally blacks out.

“Nero!”

“I leave you alone for two minutes, what the hell happened?!”

 

 

 

**June 15th—05:32 AM**

Nero watches with only a little amusement as the goat demon Goliath staggers on his two large feet, bemoaning his loss like a sore loser.

“I must not be defeated here,” he cries pathetically, his words in death's slur, “in a place like this! The fruit . . . is _mine_. I will rule the Underworld . . . not _her_!”

The devil hunter huffs because she doesn't care about any of this. The demon was just another obstacle in her way, she doesn't care about what Hell does, or who rules it. Blue Rose is pointed at the demon without a second though, but Nero doesn't shoot because a chicken shows up on the scene, flapping his wings.

 _“I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe, that made my love so high and me so low,”_ V recites, appearing from the rubble like a shadow, cane in one hand and a book in the other. She raises her cane, pointing at Goliath, and ashes rise from the handle, taking on the shape of a giant cat, one that launches itself at the demon like a blade.

Finally, the almighty giant falls. “Why . . . why are _you_ . . .” he speaks his last words, and the woman steps closer.

_“Little wanderer, hi thee home!”_

Like a bullet, V pierces her cane into the demon's head, and with a scream, he fades away in cold flames.

“I thought I had to pick you out of his . . .” Nero starts, taking a second to think her sentence through, “. . . his tummy teeth.”

V smiles gently, looking at her again in _that_ way. It's as if the mysterious one knows her from somewhere. She chuckles lightly, holding out her book. “Pardon my delay,” she says, “I was catching up on some reading.”

The devil hunter glances at it, noting its old handwriting and yellowed pages. It seems old, something lost a long time ago just found. Its edge are tattered, but it remains together, bound by something unseen. It's odd that she could feel this way about a book, when Nero doesn't even know whose poetry filled the pages, whose drawing illuminated what is unsaid, whose book this truly belongs to.

“Yeah,” she says, looking away, “looks like a real page-turner.” The giant demon plant is in her line of sight, punching a hole in the sky like a tumor. “So, do you think Dante's still in there?”

V stretches an arm out, dark dust visible in the air. “If Urizen defeated her by now,” she answers, “then I expect she's much more than Qliphoth pollen by now.”

“A what?”

The mysterious one turns back to her, a gleam in her eyes, as if she's happy to teach Nero something. “Qliphoth,” she repeats, “it's a tree that grows in the underworld. It thrives on human blood, and those whose blood it sucks well . . .” She pauses, looking at some petrified figures a few yards away, petrified in their last moments, afraid, lost, _gone._ “Let's just say that they don't turn out too well.”

She sounds upset, as if this is her fault. She's probably concerned about Dante, Nero thinks.

“Well, in any case, we need to find out,” the devil hunter says, starting towards the _Qliphoth_ as V calls it. “If Dante's alive, we'll save her. If not, we don't.”

She wonders how the other woman knows so much about the demon world, about what's going on? How did the mysterious one with only a letter for a name know the demon queen wreaking havoc in Red Grave City? There's more to V than she says, but Nero can care about that later. First, she has to punch Dante in the face, possibly killing her.

V's cane catches her by the shoulder. “Wait,” she says. “First, we must exterminate some Qliphoth roots.”

Nero pauses for a moment. Her instinct isn't wrong, V knows more than any one of them there. She's not human, is she? Not entirely, not with the way that Griffon and the large cat she summoned come to her like dutiful pets when really, they’re demons. In the chaotic ruins and calm of the city, she belongs.

“V,” Nero voices out, “what the hell are you?”

The screeching of the RV interrupts them.

 

 

 

**June 15th—06:35 AM**

_Broken_. Perhaps that's what V is, in this state, on borrowed time. She thinks about this after she and Nero split, to “cover more ground.” The woman is grateful that she didn't have to answer that question, and for the moment to ponder this.

_Human, that's what you are, V. Nothing more, nothing less._

Griffon's voice rings loudly in her head, but there's more to her than that. Isn't there? She's the daughter of the demon knight Sparda and the lovely and beautiful Eva, the twin sister of the legendary devil hunter Dante, and— And Nero's mother . . .

 

_Fortuna._

_Vergil would've forgotten about the city that worshipped her father like a god a long time ago, had it not been for one single night that seems as clear as the stars dimming in that sky. She doesn't even know the man she laid with, but he knew her, recognized her lineage in her hair and eyes. It had been so long since she'd felt seen, and for a short time, she was treasured._

_The next morning, she left. It was only a waste of time to linger with the man. Though years had passed without her, Vergil loved only her sister enough to stay, to share a bed for one night and forever. Sometimes, the older twin wondered if maybe she had made a mistake, that power wasn't the only thing that mattered._

_Then the fear settled back in, reminding Vergil of their burnt house, neither Dante nor their mother to be found. She was alone then, she'd always been alone. She survived, and the only way to drive the fear away was to become strong, powerful. So much so that fear feared her. That was the only thing that mattered._

_A giant wrench got thrown in her plans for power when Vergil began to throw up in the morning and craved the oddest of food combinations. A trip to Fortuna became a stay in Fortuna, for not even a week later did the symptoms start._

_For the first time in years, Vergil learned something new about her halfling biology. She never thoughts she could even bear a child through her own womb, the hybrid of a human and a devil, but there one was, a seed planted and sown growing quicker than the normal human gestation._

_Most women would have celebrated, but not her, not when she had plans that didn't involve children, or a family of any kind. Her family died years ago, who was she to start a new one? Her father raised her to be a warrior, to carry on his name by becoming a figure of legend. There was no space for a child, or love at all. She was meant for greater things, not this._

_And yet, she kept it, the baby growing rapidly inside her. Vergil had lost all hope and faith in the world, but she couldn't bear to do this one thing, to something so small, so fragile, vulnerable. It reminded Vergil of her mother, kind Eva and gentle whose smile lit up the world even at its darkest. She remembered her mother, imagining her sitting next to her, Eva's yellow hair draped over her shoulders like elegant curtains. Vergil imagined her mother taking her by the hand, not saying a thing._

_Vergil didn't cry, even when the hormones got hard to keep under control, but when she imagined her mother at her side, her ghostly touch warm in the sunlight, Vergil wanted the child. In a moment of weakness, she did not resist the human urge to love unconditionally, to protect something so insignificant, because it mattered to her, and in that moment, that was enough._

_The moment lasted up to five month, four less than the average human gestation, when Vergil came into full term, her belly plump with her child. She didn't feel the same tiredness as human women, or the swollen feet, but she felt her child draining her like a parasite. In those months, she stayed away from the citizen of Fortuna by finding an abandoned cabin at the edge of the city. She hunted only want she needed and kept only books for company._

_When the time came, it was a Monday, around sunrise, and Virgil was exhausted going through with the labor all the night before. She had felt pain, this was nothing new, but she was relieved when the last push gave and she was emptied of child. There was blood all over the sheets, the wooden floor, and her night dress. It was alright, she'd heal. She would not die from something so human._

_The child was a loud one, no doubt Sparda's blood flowing through her. It was a girl, hair as white as snow and eyes as blue as the sky, and her right arm was an unnatural blue and leathery, glowing with demonic energy. (“Ah, you will be strong, girl.”) The umbilical cord was cut swiftly with Yamato, the woman trusting no other blade to severe the physical bonds between herself and her offspring._

_Bloodied, tired, and dirty, Vergil took her child to the river nearby and followed its source to its waterfall. The cry of her baby nearly deafened her, but she didn't try to comfort it, a mother's natural affinity unknown to her. Without letting go of her child, Vergil removed her dress and stepped into the cold morning, ignoring the shivers that ran throughout her body. Slowly, she waded into the water, holding her child just above its surface, and she started to wash them both, holding her daughter to her chest where the baby suckled at her nipple. The crying stopped, and there was peace._

_Peace for Vergil to weep for the first time in years. Altogether, she felt satisfied and unfulfilled. How could one feel so alone when they were holding the universe in their arms?_

_When she returned to the city a few days night, she did not shed a tear as she went to the orphanage. Nor did when she left her daughter asleep in a basket and left her on the doorstep, knocking on the large wooden door before teleporting away. She did not leave a note or name, and without looking back, Vergil left Fortuna._

 

Now . . . V weeps for her, thinking back to that time more than twenty years ago. A single tear drops down to her cheek, and other spill after, because she knows.

 

_(Vergil wanted to keep the baby, wanted to raise her, but she was afraid, afraid of what she would become, of what could've been. Contentment was overthrown by fear, fear of the letting go what was her entire life, clinging to the anger and spite against her mother's murderer, to the grief and loss of her little sister. She was a survivor, not a daughter, a sister, a mother._

_She was a child herself not yet grown into her skin.)_

 

 _Stop that, Shakespeare,_  Griffon says softly, no bite in his tone. _You do better reading than you do thinking. You know that nobody in your family is good at that._ The demon pulls from the back of V’s mind, taking form in the physical word, and he swoops up into the sky, flying overhead of his master. “So, V,” he says, changing the topic, “do you think the kid can kill Urizen?”

The woman blinks, wandering where she’s going. “One can only hope,” she replies. She hears rubble falling behind her, cutting her off from her path back, and she pauses, taking a look back. “But for now, we have a more . . . pressing engagement.”

 

 

 

**June 15th—07:27 AM**

" _The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure._ Die!”

But the cavalry and his demon horse run, like _cowards_ , and V runs too, tries to until her legs buckle under the stress of their fight. She’s forced on one knee, keeping herself from falling face first onto the ground by the grace of her cane.

“V!” Griffon shouts, concerned. She could feel Shadow growling in her mind, not pleased of lost a prey.

“I'm fine,” V lies, pushing herself up. She watches as the demon’s escape route disappear behind falling rocks. This entire city is collapsing, just like her. She could feel it in her lungs, her bones, her heart. Everything will come to hurt soon enough, existence become more cursed with every breath. “I must chase him. If the devil sword Sparda still exists, it may be our only hope.

The bird demon circles above her. “V, uh, think about this for a minute. What will you do if you find it? You gotta be strong in mind and body to wield the Sparda, and you, ma’am, are neither. Hate to break it to ya, but the Sparda will be just too much for ya.”

The woman bites her lip, hating how true that is, that she could not hold her father’s legacy, not with this body, not incomplete. Oh, how low she has fallen, this even worse than when she let herself slip away into Hell because Hell is merely a place. There really is no hope for V to do this, she can barely hold against the cavalry, and she can't fathom what would happen if she encounters Malphas. There’s only so much that she can do alone.

If only that was something she knew a long time ago.

“For me, yes,” V confesses, “but what of the girl? _Nero._ ” Her daughter’s name rolls off her tongue gently, and she picks up a piece of the cavalry, left behind like a discarded tail of a newt. The loud mechanic will like it. “Let's go. Once we are near the Sparda, even I should be able to sense its presence.”

She can only hope that it will allow her, not that she has even a drop of her father’s blood left in this body.

 

 

 

**June 15th—08:57 AM**

They stand at the edge of the cliff, the platform where they fought against the angel-like demons gone in the wind. Nero looks forward, thinking how pretty it still is in the morning, even when she’s standing on what is left of Red Grave, a massive grave ready to consume the rest of the world. The devil hunter hears her companion’s heavy exhale. Maybe it was a sigh.

“Took us long enough to get here,” Nero says, looking over her shoulder. She huffs in amusement, seeing the other woman still. “What, tired already?” V looks worse than she did just a few hours ago. Maybe it would be a good idea to take her back to the RV to rest up.

“I've just remembered something,” V tells her, looking over the cliff, “this town was attacked once before.” She speaks as if she was there.

“Is that so?”

“I was here”— _Oh._ —“I can still see it.” The mysterious one kneels down a bit, facing a dirty, broken green horse that playgrounds have. She runs the tip of her fingers along its nose. “In fact, I was playing right here.”

She gets up, pointing her cane off into the distance, and there, impossibly, the ruins of house still stands. Even from here, Nero could see that its decay was not apart of the city’s upheaval, but of time and negligence. The trees, thin and dying, have roots overgrown above the dirt, and wild flowers grew. _It was abandoned_.

“That was the house,” V finishes, heading towards another way as she places a gentle hand on Nero’s shoulder, lingering just a little too long to be unfamiliar. There is a feeling that the devil hunter could not shake. “This is where we part ways. You go ahead.”

Nero frowns. “You're gonna miss all the fun,” she tries to joke, but it doesn’t sound that way. .

“No, I must seek the devil sword Sparda.”

Dante’s sword? What is V going to do with that? “What? Yeah, I don't think that's such a good idea, trust me.”

V stops, sparing Nero a glance, and there’s a light laugh on her lips. “You're not the only one who thinks so,” she admits, “but to win this fight, we're going to need all the help we can get.”

The mysterious one continues on, her back so small yet so solid, and Nero watches, catching every near stumble and weak step made. The devil hunter thinks she wants to go with V, and she doesn’t know why.

“Not the only one?” Nero asks herself. “What the hell aren't you telling me?” She shakes her head. “Guess there's no point thinking about it.”

And right on time, the devil hunter hears a call, the sound of Nico coming behind her like a war cry. The RV pops up from over the hill, just barely spiraling into control as it stops short of two inches from Nero's face, her eyes widened by a mere margin.

Nero takes a breath, holding up a sarcastic thumbs up. “Perfect timing,” she compliments, “now we're starting to act like a team.”

Nico makes a face like Nero's standing on crap. “Are you flirting with me?” the bespectacled woman asks, voice a little shaky. “Knock it off, get in the car.”

The devil hunter shakes her head again, not saying a thing about the fact that Nico could've wrecked her temporarily, and she goes to the other side of the RV. She smirks when she hears Nico say, “ _Oh my gawd._ ”

 

 

 

**May 3rd—08:08 PM**

“Okay, Morrison, I'll take you up on that gig. But _only_ if you can get me out of that hellish birthday party.”

The informant nods, happy to do business.” Consider your RSVP declined,” Morrison says with a smile, and he gestured to the door. “Meet your new client.”

A woman walks in with unusually black hair and even more unusual tattoos from her neck down to her arms and waist, and in one hand, she is held up by a silver cane. She's wearing all black, like Trish, and Dante doesn't know her, the devil hunter's eye caught by the book the woman's holding in her other hand. Its golden cover and inscribed V shouldn't exist anymore, it's been so long. Why did this strange have something so intimate? It doesn't belong to her, its original owner long dead by Dante's own hands.

Morrison heads to the door, giving the two some privacy. “Listen, I'm gonna find Lady and Trish. Bring them in on this,” he excuses.

Dante huffs, pretending to be hurt. "What?!” she yells, rolling her eyes. “C'mon, you don't think I can handle this gig on my own?”

“It's a big job, _big_ job, Dante. You're gonna need the help.”

The man leaves, Dante and the client alone in the office of Devil May Cry.

“So,” the devil hunter says slowly, “the what's your name?”

The other woman walks forward, reciting from the book, “ _I have no name; I am but two days old . . ._ ” But then she chuckles, closing it to look at Dante for the first time. She looks at the other with soft, longing eyes, though Dante doesn't know why. “Just kidding. You can call me _V_.”

The aged woman doesn't want to, she really doesn't. Dante didn't like how much of her past that this “V” keeps reminding her of. She's been living it for the past two decades. The same book, the favored poet, the recitations, it was like seeing an after image that won't go away.

“Okay . . . V,” the devil hunter says, pretending that all of that doesn't matter. It's just a job, nothing more. “Why don't you tell me everything about this job?

“A powerful demon is about to resurrect,” V answers bluntly, “and we need your help, Dante.”

The older woman can't help but laugh, settling in a grin on her lips. “Now that's a familiar tune. Do you have _any_ idea how many times I've heard that exact same line?” Yeah, she guessed it right, it's just like any other job. Dante moves from her chair to the couch by the jukebox.

“This is . . . special.”

Dante lets out a snort. “Special? Okay, so what's so special about this one?”

The other woman comes up to Dante, and though the raven is smaller, frail and pale, with every step, V becomes harder to ignores. She feels so familiar yet Dante doesn't know her, only what to call her and her face. It's confusing and irritating. There's nothing about this stranger that is _wrong_ , per say. It's just that never has she had the urge to refuse purely based on clientele.

“This demon is your reason,” V explains, vague yet every word holds weight, “your reason for fighting.”

“Does this demon have a name?”

Dante sees V's mouth take shapes, but she hears nothing but the entire world crashing at her feet once again.

 

 

 

**June 15th—10:37 AM**

_“Come here! You need to hide, Dante. No matter what happens, you mustn't leave! I need to find Vergil. I promise I'll be back. I know this is hard. You must listen to me. Be a big girl. A woman, huh? . . . If I don't return, you must run. By yourself, alone.You must change your name. Forget your past and start a new life as someone else . . . A new beginning . . . Vergil! Where are you, Vergil?!”_

_There was screaming, and then, there was silence._

 

Dante opens her eyes to the sight of V bringing down her sword, stabbing only the ground beside her, and she gains back the use of her limbs, her body. “For a second there, I thought you were gonna shish kabob me,” she says, getting up as if nothing happened.

V chuckles, taking a seat nearby against a rocky wall. Sparda had taken a lot of out her, which only tells just how she’s holding up. “I knew how stubborn you can be,” V replies, as if she really knows. “I thought it'd be the way to wake you.”

The devil hunter lets out a groan as she stretches out her bones and muscles, feeling stiffer than she's ever been. This is nothing compared to the slow process of aging though. She's only half human, but she gets all its mortality. “What day is it?”

“The 15th . . . of June.” V's breathing come out audibly.

“A whole month? No wonder I'm so stiff.” _It's nothing compared to decades._

The annoying demon chicken flies down over, loud and demanding as he spoke. “Right, sunshine, now put a fire on it,” Griffon mocks urgently, “we gotta get going, 'cause that annoying pimple Nero is making a beeline for Urizen. And if she gets there, she's gonna get—”

Irritated, Dante grabs the demon by his monstrous beak, tossing the giant chicken away, and his voice fades in the distance

“— _smashed like a bug!_ ”

The woman turns to the other. “Hey! This is my gig,” she says, leaving no room for questions. “Leave Nero out of this.” _She's just a kid, she's my—_

V slowly gets up, hands and legs shaking. “If you could defeat Urizen . . . then I never would have dreamed of using _that_ child,” she says back, regretful, and she looks away. “But Urizen . . . is much stronger than we could have imagined. Our last hope, Nero, was completely useless.”

It must hurt to say that as it was to hear it.

 

 

 

**May 15th—04:44 PM**

It was a long way up the Qliphoth, but they're up there now, Dante, Trish, and Lady followed by V and his demon chicken. “Oh, it stinks in here,” the blonde comments, scrunching up her nose.

“I know,” the devil hunter agrees, though she knows that they've both been through worse, “smells like hot garbage.”

The tattooed raven mutters, “This is far worse than I thought . . .”

Dante laughs. “There's no crime in turning tail, V. These things might be a little too much for ya.”

There's a hum, as if V’s actually contemplating that. “You're right. I'll leave the rest to you.” She turns around, not a bit guilty about her decision to abandon them.

“Wha—” Griffon shouts scandalously, following after the woman. “Wha— what? Wh— whoa, my, my, V. All the way down here, and turnin' tail, really? _Huh_?”

“One must always have an insurance policy.” There's a light note in V's voice, and she heads down the Qliphoth.

“Who was that?” Lady asks in disbelief. She crosses her arm in disapproval. “Can't believe she just ran . . .”

“No one special,” Dante dismiss with a shrug, continuing on. “C'mon, let's clean up this garbage.”

Trish laughs, catching up. “First come, first serve to the target, right?” she asks in challenge, placing her hand on Dante's shoulder before running off.

Lady takes it easily, running too. “Music to my ears. Hurry up, Dante!” she calls out from over her shoulder.

The devil hunter smiles at his friends, beautiful they are, but it falters a second later, her eyes looking forward because she's just not here to save the world again. “Looks like I get to see it with my own eyes,” she says to nobody, “ _if_ it really is you.”

And on the way, catching up to Trish and Lady, Dante encounters demons and kills them like she always does, professionally and stylishly. She gets riled up every time blood gushes, be it with her sword or her guns. She'll never get tired of it, she thinks, but one day, it'll be for her body to decide if she can continue to go on. The world seems to become newer and faster everyday, all the while she feels the years catching up to her and left behind.

That's not a bad thing, everyone has their time. Dante's not mad or spiteful about it, not Nero is in her life now. With Nico, those two can save the world themselves when it's their time. The devil hunter only wishes she has the one person who was supposed to grow old with her by her side again. They were halves to each other's whole, both human and devil, and to live without the other was to live only half a life.

That is just a dream, and it should stay as so.

“Yeah, gettin' close,” Dante says, “I can feel her.”

She enters the inner chambers, pushing the fleshy doors open, and she sees Lady and Trish flying across opposite sides of the room, letting out cries of pain as they land on the ground. Dante is filled with the urge to kill because they are _her friends_ , and she knows just who did it.

“Well, well,” the devil hunter announces her arrival, looking to the throne, “o queen of stench and filth. I'm impressed!”

There, with her monstrous head on the flat of her hand, Urizen sat in boredom, as if she only lifted a hand to deal Trish and Lady. The demon queen doesn't even move as Dante comes closer.

“Those are the two best badass women in the world,” Dante continues, stopping right in front of the throne, “and I know only one person that can defeat them. _Jackpot!_ ”

She is met with both dread and hope when the eyes of the demon queen glow in recognition, finally lifting her head up.

“Dante,” Urizen says, telling Dante everything she needs to know.

_Vergil._

 

 

 

**June 15th—11:11 AM**

Why must the woman move so fast? There's only so much energy V has left, only so much she has to spare before her body collapses. The frail woman couldn't even catch Dante before the devil hunter gets on a demonized bike, giving V a dismissive smile, saying, “Take care of Trish for me!”

Then she rides off without waiting for an answers, and V trips, Griffon chasing after Dante. _Pathetic._ From the floor, she sees Trish, laid out on the concrete ground, unconscious but not a injury on her. The tattooed raven struggles to pick herself up, staggering weakly over to the blonde.

 _Left behind again._ V hates that feeling so much, hates the loneliness that comes with it, the emptiness. The world is vast, but she's so small, so insignificant. She can't catch up.

The human takes a moment to let her body rest for a bit, looking around the ruins on high alert. She's thankful to find a large sheet blown in by the debris winds, and she places it over Trish. V thinks the other woman would appreciate the help to keep her modesty.

The rest is not enough, however, to continue on, and so, accepting her position, V takes a seat on some rubble, pulls out her book, and reads. She reads the poems she already knows, already memorized by heart, but she still finds comfort in the faded yellow of the pages, the messy yet legible handwriting of Blake. She remembers the emotions of her youth, finding peace within peace as she read these lines, theses verses. They are still beautiful to her, ringing harmoniously with her very being.

( _I remembered holding a child in my arms,_ she too recalls, looking off into the distance of a memory. _She was so small, but she's not anymore. It's like I missed all the chapters up until now. I wonder how many blank pages she'll let me have in her life once this is over._ )

A single tear falls onto the four lines of “Eternity” and not one more.

It's nearing noon when Trish wakes up, sitting up suddenly. “Dante’s left,” she says, mildly hurt but understanding.

Yes,” V says, remind the blonde of her presence, “and I don't think she can win.”

Trish turns. “What was that demon, V? Where did it come from? Urizen is not a demon. I know for a fact, because I'm from the Underworld. Oh my god. What are you then?”

V thinks her lips, because she's not sure how to answer that just yet. “It doesn't matter,” she says instead, “I'm a shadow of my former self who lost everything. I will tell you . . . the story of my birth.”

This is a confession, she realizes, before the woman who looks just like Eva. Perhaps, if she profess her sins—of Urizen's, of Vergil's—she’ll be absolved of her guilt, to be forgive.

“Suffering defeat after defeat,” V begins, “that woman's body was reaching her limit, breaking down. But she couldn't die yet. The woman had a job that must be done: to defeat her twin sister . . .”

 

 _May 1—_ _09:19 PM_

_Of all the places to return, she chose their childhood house, where once their mother's garden bloomed yearly with the most crimson of roses. It was big, too big for only a family of three, but it held so much, from books to paintings to memories. The iron gate had long lost their hinges, halfway permanently open, but she closed them behind her anyway._

_Vergil, her lungs made of ash, stepped into the main room where where she once liked to read and Mother liked to nap. It was where Dante came to bother her, wanting to fight even though she was busy reading. She went to there because she needed to he sure, her heart caught in her throat to see that their family portrait still hung._

_She wondered how different everything would've been if they had all survived that night, if she and her sister had just found each other, and all she was left was with agony, yearning for something that never was._

_Vergil needed to get rid of everything that made her weak, her emotions, her memories, her_ **_humanity_** _. It had always held her back from absolute power, it was why she always lost to Dante, Dante who threw away their pride as the daughters of Sparda and chose to side with such weak creatures._

 _Slowly, she pulled her treasured blade from its sheath, and she caught her reflection on it._ **_How ugly. How weak. How human._ **

_“Dante,” she said softly like a curse and a blessing, and she took the hilt with two hands, positioning its tip against her middle, “_ ** _heavy chains, that does freeze my bones around!_ ** _”_

_Steeling her will, Vergil pulled the blade through her flesh, pain filling every part of her as it tore her into two._

 

“. . . In order to defeat her younger sister, she can only do that one thing with the crumbling flesh and feelings. She needed to separate man from devil with the strength of Yamato . . .”

 

_She was nothing but discarded memories, emotions, and one whole part of humanity, kept together in a poorly knit body of flesh and blood. She was not birthed but created, an artificial abomination._

 

“. . . And eventually, the woman became a true devil . . .”

 

_Barely a minute old, and she knew fear, watching with eyes of awe as her other half transformed their body, disfiguring themselves into something unrecognizable._

 

“. . . I've tried to hold together my crumbling flesh with whatever demonic power I have left, but—”—V pauses, lifting an arm up into the light to see how close she is to disappearing—“—I'm approaching my limit. In separating and regaining my human soul, I've realized the _gravity_ of the crime I've committed. I've realized how important everything was, everything I've thrown away in my pursuit for power.”

“Is that why you went to find Dante?” Trish asks, quiet and patient until now.

V’s lips twitch in a poor attempt to see the absurdity of her actions. “Yes,” she says, looking at the other woman, “foolish. I thought maybe he could change . . . maybe fix— maybe right my wrong. Tell me, was this fool before you right?”

The devil huffs, getting up now, and with a spin, the sheet disappears and with her powers, she is wearing a new set of clothes, black and attractive. “I'm not your mommy, V, you're a big girl,” Trish says, not giving the other the answer she was looking for, hoping for, “and you need to see this through. Dante's war.”

The fragile human looks to the ground, knowing that the blonde was right.

She needs to see this through.

 

 

“Holy shit,” Dante says in disbelief, “can't believe any of this is still standing.” The only thing still standing is the last portrait with all four of them. Father is sitting on his favorite chair, she and Vergil standing at his side with Mother behind them.

They never got to pose for a portrait where they smiled.

“Hey, there you are!” the annoying demon chicken shouts, flying down. “Hey, what's wrong with you? Hey! Hey, Dante!”

“The demonic power was activated in me once,” the devil hunter says, holding out a broken piece of Rebellion, “when Vergil lovingly jammed this through my chest. I always wondered why did my father give me the Rebellion?”

“Okay, what are you muttering?”

Dante lets out a breathy laugh. “Over the years, I've been stabbed and jabbed by a number of things. But who would've ever guessed.” With that, she stabs the broken piece into herself, pain spreading throughout her body like a bitch, and she lets out a cry.

Griffons flaps frantically, confused and shocked. “Have you lost your mind?! There's a demon to destroy! Kill yourself later! I'll help!”

“If the Yamato can separate man from devil,” Dante continues, straining to bear everything, “then what of the Rebellion?”

And a burst of fire envelopes her entire being, the pain devoured by a surge of power as her body absorbs the broken Rebellion.

“Wow!” Griffon shouts, putting some distance between them. “You are absorbing the Sparda!”

The world flashes in white light, and she's in her Sin Devil Trigger form, an inferno burning at her core. Dante breathes in as she settles back into control, and she takes one last look at the portrait before her, one last look of what was. Then, like a comet, she shoots into sky with a powerful flap of her wings, cutting directly to the top of the giant demon plant invading the sky. She knows Urizen is there, but most importantly, so is Nero.

In a heartbeat, Dante puts herself between Urizen and Nero, the latter throw away harshly, and the young devil hunter is barely able to stand on her own feet.

“It can't be?” Nero says in disbelief. “Dante, you bitch, I knew you couldn't be killed that easily!” She takes a second to catch her words. “Hey, she's all yours, but don't let it become a habit.”

Fortunately, the beloved child falls faint, and Griffon swoops, picking Nero up and away from the upcoming battle. “Win, Dante, win!” the demon chicken cheers, flying away.

Dante doesn't speak, but the demon queen knows who she is. “Dante,” Urizen says, standing up from her throne.

Prepared, Dante summons a new legendary sword, named after her, and she holds herself with grandeur.

_Round three._

 

 

 

**June 15th—01:13 PM**

Her breath is heavy, as if her own lungs are choking the air out of her, but she continues. She must, even though the pain of existence stabs her with every step. Her flesh is becoming paper, old and tearing. Griffon flies lowly above her, watching careful and close. He worries about her.

V lightens her feet when she feels a presence up a head, a voice that like a haze, and she falls to her knees to overlook who is there.

“If she reaches the fruit,” the tri-headed demon woman with a body large and monstrous says to herself, frustrated and planning, “it will all be over. Even Mundus failed to reign over the human. Surely, we know _she_ will not.”

Griffon lands on V’s shoulder, his talons sharp on her shoulder. “Malphas!” he shouts in a whisper. “No way we can handle her, we don't have the strength!”

“ _I know,_ ” V replied softly, seeing how badly she's deteriorated. She's coming apart, and she's nowhere near the end. “But we must get through this, somehow.”

She stands up, pushing herself on her cane, but that's the wrong to do, the pressure knocking off some loose rocks. They rumble, and they tumble, alerting the she-demon like a siren. Malphas turns, and V runs backwards, panic arising as she hits the dead end of the rocky walls.

“Ahh, an intruder perhaps?” Malphas asks with amusement. “I'm _coommiing_ . . .”

V is frozen on the spot, an endless rain of shivers running through her, and she's reminded of how weak she is, the tick-tock of time mocking her. She misses her old body, powerful and not-so-human. She envies Urizen for that, but she does not want to be Urizen. Not anymore, after coming to terms of her crimes. V just wants to _be_.

The woman lets out a shaky breath, pressing herself as she quietly begs to spare. Malphas would never, but unlike Vergil, V _hopes_. She hopes, she fears, she shakes, she condemns herself for everything she is, she clings onto life.

V closes her eyes, dreading the worse as the she-demon comes closer, closer to seeing her, to killing her, but then a shot rings out, hitting Malphas and distracting her.

“Gotta pay attention, sweetheart,” V's miracle says provocatively.

“Sparda’s kin,” Malphas says, “but you're nothing more than an empty shell with no power. You are as weak as your flesh, _human_.”

“Hey, we're tougher than we look. Well, there's only one way to find out.”

“I will enjoy this!”

V doesn't see, but she can hear the battle commence, Malphas taunting as bullets are shot in between. The frail woman breathes a little easier now, relief ebbing away at the fear. Saved by her own daughter, she make for a parent no one would be proud of. Vergil never got to know Nero, never raised her, but there the young woman is, unknowingly fighting for her. Needing rest, V closes her eyes and waits for her daughter's victory.

“You can come out now,” Nero says finally, and V gets up, lifting an arm for Griffin to take her down from the cliff. The frail woman doesn't quite land on her feet but on all fours, unable to catch herself now.

“I guess I owe you one,” V tries to make light of the situation, but she sees the worry in Nero's eyes as she pushes herself back up again. She begins to walk towards the younger woman's direction, the rest she had taken not having helped at all. She desires to embrace Nero, but she refrains because she's nothing to her daughter.

“You should turn around. Your body's not gonna last much longer.”

“That, I cannot do. I must go.” V takes another step, and she ends up fallen on her knee. 

She closes her eyes, nearing tears. Time is running out, and she is not longer sure if she can make it anymore, to Urizen, to her other half. If she fails, Vergil will never exist again but in memory. Dante's memories, sad and lonely and full of rain.

“Damn it, V!” Nero shouts in frustration, not understand because she doesn't know. “Don't push yourself. You need some rest.”

“I _must_ go. To where Urizen is.”

“ _Why?!_ Why the hell do you have to—”

“I _beg_ you!” V shouts back, looking Nero in the eyes, and she puts everything she has left to say, “ _This_ is my last request.”

Nero thins her lips in disapproval, but she concedes, picking V up by the arm and placing it over her shoulder. “Fine,” Vergil's daughter accepts begrudgingly, walking them slowly. She sighs. “Dante's definitely gonna beat us there.”

 

 

 

**June 15th—02:01 PM**

“The truth is . . . I wanted to be protected and loved,” the mysterious one says, and Nero frowns at the way the other woman's face is cracked but falling away like paper mache. “But I was alone. My only choice was to survive.” V falls again, her legs to weak to carry her even with aid, and Nero has had enough.

“V, you gotta rest,” the devil hunter says, irritated that someone who's in a pretty bad condition is still trying to go on. She doesn't have to, Nero's going to finished this, with or without V. She can do this all by herself.

“Nero, I will tell you,” the mysterious one says instead, picking herself back up, “everything.”

Nero furrows her eyebrows in confusion. What is there more to know? There's a demon name Urizen who wants to destroy the world, and someone has to stop her.

“There is no demon named Urizen,” V says, her voice small now, “only a woman who threw away her humanity, in an endless pursuit of power.” V looks to Nero, a pained expression on her face. “She is Dante's older sister.”

“Dante's . . . sister?”

She never knew that annoying woman had a sibling of any kind, Nero only knew about Eva because Dante keeps a picture of her at her desk. Nero once thought it was Eva, but upon a closer look, it isn't. She eventually came to learn that the woman in that picture frame was Dante's mother, the older woman answering rather quickly and dismissively. Otherwise, Dante never really spoke about her family. Nero never asked to learn more.

“Yes,” V replies, her skin pale and peeling, “and her real name is . . . _Vergil_.”

 

 

It's her childhood again, and the Manor is not in ruins but well-kept and lived in. It's a beautiful day, and a thousand pictures, words, and sensations all come to Dante in the exact moment. She misses this place, but it's not real. It hasn't been for decades, just a dream where she still have a home, where Mother gardens her roses, and where Vergil is alive.

But that's not Vergil—not Dante's Vergil—standing there in the middle of the field under the demon root. A sickly red fruit bears heavy on a single thing branch, and Urizen is watching it, waiting for it to ripe just right.

“Vergil,” Dante says softly, walking towards the demon queen. She raises her voice. “Hey, is that the damn fruit you've been jabberin' about? Doesn't look so special to me.”

Urizen doesn't react, just staring.

“Yep, this is where it all started,” Dante continues, “that day Mother saved me and . . . left you behind. The thing you don't know is, she tried to save you, too. She kept searching and searching. Until it killed her.” _It nearly killed me, to lose you too._

“I have no recollection of this tale,” Urizen finally replies, not even turning around, “or this place. It's all an illusion, created by this extraordinary fruit. Its power, you see, is all I ever wanted.” And then she grabs the fruit hanging by a thread. “And with this—”

“No!” Dante shouts, already in a run.

“—I will have everything!”

Urizen places the fruit in her mouth, and it bursts between her teeth, the sky turning dark and the root withering away for it had served its purpose.

“No, _sister_ , you don't have everything,” Dante says, anger filling her lungs with a burn. She grits her teeth, hot flashes rushing throughout her body. “That last shred of humanity that you still had? You just lost it!”

The demon queen begins to transform, shedding the thick tendrils that bound her to the tree, and she becomes her own, an entity that needed nothing— _no one_ —because she has what she had ever wanted. _Power._

“ _That,_ ” Urizen says, “is nothing but the pitiful cries of those without strength. Come to me, sister. I shall enlighten you, _Dante!_ ”

Fighting with Vergil is and has always been a bitch, whether they were child, teens, or aging women, and with every blow and bullet, Dante recalls more and more of them, each one becoming more and more bloodier to the continuous sound of their swords clashing. And in all honesty, she's grown tired of it, the fighting without the apologies afterwards, or the comfort of losing. When they were just little girls, they'd fight every day, even when Vergil rather read, and every time, under the guiding words of Mother, they'd make up, sharing dessert from the same bowl and sundaes from the same cup. They'd grow stronger and better, _together_.

That's all Dante ever wanted since that night, to grow up together. _To grow old._ But their fate is a cruel one because she must once again kill Vergil, at least this part of her sister. Whatever remains will fade away like a memory.

Like the minutes in an hour. Like the years in a lifetime.

The pain of bringing down Urizen is nothing compared to that. 

 

 

"They're sisters?" Nero asks. "Why are they fighting each other?"

V hears the disbelief in her daughter's voice, and it's understandable. "To see one's justice through, a woman must fight for it," she answers. "Even if the one who stands before her is her kin."

The young devil hunter scoffs. "That's ridiculous."

"The sisters of blood disagree on the very reason of their existence. They must fight."

The fleshy rock walls of the Qliphoth tree slowly turns into a beautiful world outside where the sky is blue and clear and not a breeze disturbed the peace. All except for a battle coming to a close.

"Dante!" Nero shouts, speeding up their slow pace to reach the older woman.

A few yards away, Urizen lays on her back, weakened and defeated, and the demon queen groans in despair like an animal cornered and stabbed.

"You're late," Dante says, landing on her feet, "just finishing up."

V pulls herself from Nero and walks to her fallen half, needing to see this through, and Nero doesn't seem to notice, asking as she looks at Urizen, "Is that really your sister?"

"I'm afraid so."

"So she was behind all this. Your own flesh and blood."

"Right again." Dante forces a smile, V knows.

"In the last thrones of defeat, I see," the frail human says, moving past them, and slowly but surely, she gets closer.

" _You_ . . ." Urizen says, voice strained with weakness. There is only hatred in her eyes.

"V, get back!" Dante warns, lifting her sword to strike the final blow. "Things are about to get really messy."

"No!" V shouts, in fear for her life, and she looks at her sister, the grip on her cane tight. "Please. Let me. I want to end this battle. With my own hands." And she continues, forcing herself to make the last few steps and to climb over her other half's useless body. Exhaling, V looms over Urizen, speaking softly. "Do not struggle. For if you can't even defeat me, then you've already lost."

"I will not lose," the fallen demon says bitterly, as if every word tasted acidic, "not to Dante. I need power, _more power!_ "

"I know, we are one in the same, you and I. But you've lost me, and I've lost you. Yet we are connected, by that one feeling. _While thy branches mix with mine, and our roots together join_."

Finally, V is at the end, and she is not going to die but reborn a new. She prays that she has changed so that she who is broken will be mended, both human and devil coming back together as one, and she raises her cane. She hears Dante running up behind them, but it's too late, her silver cane stabbing Urizen through her demonic eye.

A blue light breaks through, and V is enveloped whole, serenity and euphoria taking over her mind as their essence reunited. It's like falling into the sea, sinking deeper and deeper as the light above dim out of existence, but she is not falling to the dark, sandy bottom but becoming again part of the waters, the current, the sea.

"What is this?"

"Vergil!"

 

 

 

**June 15th—03:06 PM**

The first thing she does is pick up the book that her humanity had left behind because rightfully, it's hers, holding the past within its pages. None of its lines or verse tells her story but between them, the invisible traces of her small fingertips having traced each and every word, every one of the great poet's wondrous illustration, and what lingers is the sentiments of her childhood, good and bad.

"Ya got some pretty big cojones for comin' back," her sister interrupts, as she always did so they'd fight, but this time, she's angered, as if everything is her fault. (It is both hers and not hers; their fate is a cruel one.) "Just don't know when to quit, do ya?!"

Vergil counters Dante's attack without even looking, using only the scabbard of her beloved sword to throw her twin into the air, and that puts Nero right between them.

"Get out of my way, Nero!" the younger twin shouts, attacking once again, and again, Vergil strikes back. This time, however, their strengths are allowed to match.

"Defeating you like this has no meaning," is the first thing Vergil says in years, after death.

"C'mon, Vergil. Let's do this!"

 _Foolish sister. Hot headed sister._ "Heal your wounds, Dante. Get strong. After that, we'll settle the matter."

Again, Vergil throws her sister back, Dante flying across the way, and without missing a beat, she slashes the air with Yamato, creating a wound in reality. But she doesn't leave immediately, looking over her shoulder to her daughter who has not a clue. Not yet at least.

"Thank you, Nero," the older woman says, giving the young devil hunter a smile, which obviously confused Nero. She doesn't that she'd been helping Vergil all this time, but still, she is owed gratitude.

With a nod, Vergil steps into the portal she'd made, looking forward.

 

 

"Dammit!" Dante screams, madder than Nero has ever seen her. The older woman always wears a nonchalant attitude, lazy but always willing to help others, and she deals with everything with an extravagant but humble manner, taking her job seriously even as she laughs and jokes around.

"If that's your sister," Nero says, "what happened to V?" Who was the woman that lead them all here? _What_ was she? Still, she can't shake the feeling that V—Vergil?—has more to do with her than she'd ever thought.

Dante lets out a frustrated cry. "She returned," she answers, "to herself." She starts on a quick walk, determination with every step. "Go home, Nero. This doesn't concern you."

 _Lies._ She knows what she feels, her instinct demanding to be told the truth. " _Like_ _hell!_ I lost my right arm because of her!"

"This is not _your_ fight. _I_ need to stop her, and that's all that matters."

"I'm not gonna let you have all the fun, Dante!"

Dante stops short, turning around in a warning manner, as if she's keeping back so much. "You don't get it!" she shouts, her frustration getting the best of her. It must be because of her sister.

Nero hates that she doesn't understand how much Vergil affects her mentor, that she didn't even know Dante still had family. It makes Nero envious because she never even got to know hers.

"Lemme guess," the younger woman eggs on, getting pissed off again, "I'm dead weight? You can shove that—"

"That's _not_ it, Nero."

" _What is it, then!?_ "

" _She's your mother!_ "

Nero instinct lurches at the truth, and it punches her in the gut with the weight of an RV. Vergil is . . . _her mother?_ Then that would make Dante her— " _What!?_ " she yells, unable to believe this because she's had known Dante for a few years already, and Dante never told her until now?

All this time, Nero thought she was born into this world alone, that was an unwanted child picked up by the kindness of Credo and Kyrie. Who'd want a baby with a _demon_ arm? She thought she was unloved for years because monster was the closest thing that could best describe her by a world full of humans. She had always thought that it was her father who was demonic because that's a typical trope, but it's her _mother_ , the woman who carried her into full term and bore her into life. It was her mother, half human and half demon, who abandoned her, unable to bear having a child just like her.

No, not _enough_ like her.

"I had the feeling," Dante says, regret settling in her words, "the first time I saw you, but I just wasn't sure. And then I saw how the Yamato reacted. And I was certain. She's your mother. Now, she needs an ass-kicking, but I can't have you kill your own mom."

The older devil hunter gives Nero a pat on the shoulder, as if it's any consolation for dropping this all of the sudden, and leaves Nero behind. 

" _My mother?_ " 

 

 

"That day, if our positions switched, would our fates be different? Would I have your life, and you mine? Let's settle this, Dante."

And she take a seat on the top of the world, waiting.

(Vergil is grateful and spiteful of her sister when her nightmares finally die. So long had they been with her; she will not miss them, but she mourns nonetheless.)

 

 

 

**June 15th—04:04 PM**

"Hey, Vergil!" Dante calls out, walking towards her sister's back. "Your portal-opening days are over. Give me the Yamato." Her arm is outstretched in demand, but she knows she's not going to get it that easily.

"If you want it," Vergil replies without even sparing a glance back, "then you'll have to take it." She stands, her Qliphoth throne dissipating as she turns around. "But you already knew that."

"I had a feeling you'd say that." Dante starts up another challenge by summoning the new legendary devil sword named after herself.

"How many times have we fought?"

"Hard to say, it's the only memory I have of us since we were kids."

Neither of them move for a moment, but then, they share a smile, all of Dante's anger slowly ebbing away because the relief of Vergil being alive has finally settled in. _She's alive, and still such a dumbass._ And she wouldn't have Vergil any other way.

What Dante had been so pissed off about was that Vergil ran away earlier, making her chase after her sister again, but that was for the last time. She's going to make sure of it, she's going to defeat Vergil once and for all, and this time, she's going to make her sister come home with her. Not everything is forgiven, but it's a start, a new one. She's hopeful, she's anxious, and most of all, she's excited. It's going to be like when they were kids again. They're going to fight, and they're going to pick each other up. This time, they're fighting for the sake of fight, nothing else. (Please?)

"Time to finish this, Vergil," Dante says. "Once and for all!"

Obviously, Vergil accepts the challenge, and with a shared breath, they charge.

Like every fight they had as kids, they taunt each other, to be irritating, to be funny, to be painful. Dante recalls other reasons for her to be angry, her attacks on par with Vergil.

"You cut off your daughter's arm for _this?!_ " the younger shouts, remembering the desire to stab the older for hurting her niece. They aren't exactly the closest, but Nero is just a kid, she didn't deserve to have her arm torn off. Dante should've been there, should've know that her sister was back. Vergil has always been _her_ problem, not Nero's, or anyone else's. Dante has always stood between Vergil and the rest of the world, and she's okay with that.

Dante's going to make sure Vergil gets paid back in full, and more.

"My daughter," the older shouts back, maybe a little hesitant, "means nothing to me!"

And honestly, that's the push Dante needed to push past her limit, giving everything she has, and more, to defeating her sister.

Victory is a bite-size pizza crust when Vergil plays a trick, pretending to take that last slash of her legendary sword only to teleport close range and cutting Dante into the air. The younger sister hits a wall, falling fully onto her front, and she groans in pain.

"Nero is my daughter," Vergil states, leaving no room that she did indeed knew. That she has known all along. She played them both.

"Yeah, dumbass," Dante replies, forcing a huff. "You can't remember through that thick skull of yours?"

"Well . . . well, that was a long time ago."

Dante laughs, not sure if she wants to know yet so she gets back into a battle stance. "I guess you were young once, too. As much as I'd love to hear that story, I think it's about time we . . ."

". . . ended this," Vergil finishes, doing the same.

Dante first, then Vergil, they transform into their Sin Devil Trigger, and with another shared breath, they charge once again.

Their blades never touch each other when in the middle of their clash, a figure with blue angelic wings put herself between them, and impossibly, she stops them.

Both sisters' eyes widen in surprise.

 

 

 

**June 15—04:27 PM**

There's a working phone booth, and Nero only has one quarter left. (Stupid machine, that's why people have cell phones now.) One quarter, one call. Nero steps up, inserts the coin, and dials a number she thinks about when she needs help.

 _"Hello? Nero?"_ Kyrie says from the other side of the receiver. She sounds worried yet patient. " _I_ _s that you Nero? Did something happen?"_

Nero begins to calm at the sound of her voice, an anchor through all the bullshit she puts up on a daily basis. "Kyrie," she answers, speaking slowly, "when I was a kid, I . . . I was alone. You and Credo were all I knew. And now all the sudden, I found out I have a family. What am I supposed to do with _that_?"

In a heartbeat, Kyrie replies, " _You always know what path is right, and which is wrong. There's no need to doubt_ **_yourself_** _."_

She's always been different, alone in most crowds. She was so hesitant to let the world see her devil arm, even though she learned to use to fight, to protect; it was a part of herself that she wished she could hide. Now, having lost that arm, she misses it, but Kyrie is right. Nero doesn't need the arm, she has herself. That's enough, no matter what anyone says, be it Dante or Vergil. Even when she felt so useless and downright embarrassed about herself the entire month between now and then, she still wanted to go back. To save Dante. To save the world. _To do the right thing._

"Thanks," Nero says softly, "I guess that's all I needed to hear. I have one last thing to take care of. Then I'm coming home." She hears Kyrie laugh lightly, and she hangs up.

"I couldn't protect Credo," she tells herself, recalling that day back in Fortuna, and she starts in a run to the top, her Devil Breaker reaching out in front of her. "To this day, I hate myself for not having enough strength. But this time is different. I swear! **_I'm not letting you die!_** "

A sudden surge of energy bursts from where her arm used to be, a bright blue light illuminating the daylight, and beyond any human comprehension, it heals back, _the entire limb_. She feels a pair of wings forming on her back, her entire being transforming, and as she knows how to run, she knows how to fly. With a leap, she takes flight into the air, and she lands where she needs to be, between her aunt and her mother.

They stare at her with wide blue eyes.

"This is," Vergil starts, "curious."

"Nero?" Dante says, recognizing her first.

The young devil hunter pushes the two away from each other, sending them flying in opposite directions.  

"What form of power is this?" Vergil asks, hands lifting up from the ground. There's a sense of awe in her tone.

"What the hell?" Dante says, sounding annoying.

"This ends," Nero tells the both of them, her Trigger deactivated, "right here."

Dante gets up, stomping her way to Nero, and brandishes her sword like a child. "Listen to me. I told you already, this is not your—"

With a thought, Nero's wings obey, and one spectral hand slaps Dante right across the face, _hard_. Vergil lets out a quiet sound, stunned.

" _You_ listen, dead weight," Nero says, turning to Vergil, "I won't let you kill each other. There are other ways of settling your differences. I'm putting a stop to this sibling rivalry."

"Ahh, you came all this way just for that," Vergil realizes.

"Vergil. V. Whatever you call yourself . . . Dante's not gonna die here, and neither are you. Do you have a problem with that?"

"'Not gonna die,' _my ass_ ," Dante says, groaning with pain at her jaw. She's still on the ground. "That bitch slap nearly killed me!"

Vergil smiles as she gets up, circling the younger woman. "If I beat Nero," she says with amusement. "Then by default, I beat you. Agreed, Dante?"

" _Whatever_. I don't really care. I'm just gonna sit this one out." The younger twin lets herself fall backwards, going to nurse her pain on the ground.

Nero takes a step forward, her wings coming together over her and they take turn cracking their knuckles, preparing for a fight. "When this is over, I'll make you submit," she says with determination, " _Mother._ "

 

 

She doesn't win, but neither does Nero. It's a truce, just a second; still, Vergil finds herself proud of her daughter. "Interesting," she praises, though her tone implies more about Nero's skill than Nero herself.

"Oh, sister," Dante mocks, still on the ground, "you cut off your own daughter's arm for more power, and you _still_ lost."

"Enough, dammit!" Nero demands, no doubt angry at the both of them. Sadly for her, they will have to live with it, for now. "The Underworld is taking over, and we need to do something before it's too late."

"She's right. We need to close that portal. Come on, you lost so you better do what she says."

"I can still fight," Vergil claims, because she can. "But if those roots continue to spread through town, it'll just interfere with our business."

Dante finally gets up, a smile on her face. "Now that's the smartest thing I heard you say. Better hurry up. We still got a score to settle."

"Evidently."

She and her sister head to the edge, sharing the same intention. How long has it been since they've shared a thought without the word? So natural they fell back into it after so long. 

"Wait, where are you going?" Nero asks, hesitance in her tone. 

"We need to sever the Qliphoth roots in the Underworld itself," Vergil explains. "We'll seal the portal with the Yamato."

"Hang on, if you do that, you can't come back."

"Why do you think I'm goin'?" Dante asks, spinning around to look at her niece. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on your mother."

Nero takes a step towards them. "You can't just expect me to stay here, while you both go—"

"It's because _you're_ here we can go." Dante places a hand on Nero's shoulder. "We're trusting you with things on this side, capisce?"

"Make haste, Dante," Vergil calls without pausing. 

"Yeah, I know." They fall side-by-side.

Stubbornly, of course, Nero refuses to accept this easily. "Hey, wait!" she demands, running after them. 

They both expected that, Vergil knows, and with a fluid movement, she and her twin swing their arms back, knocking Nero back to stop her. She needs to stay here, Hell is not a place for her. It doesn't have to be, they won't let it. 

"Take care, Nero," Dante says, turned around one more time. "Adios." And then she jumps, triggering so that she lands on her wings and soars downwards into Hell. 

This time, Dante went first, because she knows that Vergil will follow, but a bit longer, the older sister lingers, the first time she's had a private moment with her daughter since giving her up as a babe those many years ago. 

"I won't lose the next time," Vergil tells Nero, taking out her book. She takes one last look at it before looking back to her daughter, and she tosses the prized possession onto the floor between them. "Hold onto that until then."

For the first time, Vergil is the one chasing after Dante, their roles reversed but not in a way a hunter comes after prey. She leaps in the air, triggering in mid-flight, and she also soars downwards into Hell, knowing that her sister is waiting for her. 

For the first time, she is coming home. 

 

 

The book she picked up is thin but heavy, she feels the weight in her hands. She hates them so much for leaving her alone, just when she barely found them, but she won't cry over them.

"Idiots . . ."

(Nero misses them already.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Bonus—Hell**

At some point, after the nth mock battle, after killing an infinite number of demons, after bickering and riling each other up countless times, they actually take a moment to rest, an unexposed place in this muted landscape in the form of a cave between two large trees with trunks as big as elephants. They are dirty and tattered, blood on every inch of fabric, and they lay on the cold stone ground, staying close without speaking a word. They both want to be like so, their eyes never parting leaving the other as they settle down, stripped of their clothes. Dante is speechless as they touch, her arms wrapped around her sister's waist, and she pulls them even closer, hands caressing Vergil's naked back. She's warm,  _alive_ , and she's beautiful, so beautiful that Dante starts to cry, tears falling to her temples. That makes Vergil chuckle because she's a cruel woman, and she kisses first. 

Dante is breathless.

**Author's Note:**

> While writing this within a week, I both regretted and enjoyed writing this. It was painful and writing long, detailed works in such a short time always mentally exhaust me. (I never realized just how much build up there is in this game, omgs.) I feel my brain tingling from overuse. ≈~≈ But still, I like this one a lot. Don't know if it's any good at this point, but it's too late (and too long) to trash it. (I was a bit nervous about uploading this, lol.) Thanks for reading, I hope you had fun too. 
> 
> (also happy birthday to me~ a little something i wanted to share wit y'all. okay bye~)
> 
> If you like my work(s), please check out [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


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